


Trouble Rolls In

by CavannaRose



Series: Rose Wilson Fics [29]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Terror Titans (Comics)
Genre: Antiheroes, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Fighting, Gen, Mild Language, Team Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-20 03:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20220868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: Some jobs come through the front door, some come in the window like an asshole.





	1. Chapter 1

Rose stared into the cracked mirror, critically examining herself. She rarely let herself fall into that kind of self-exploration, but tonight? Tonight she was wondering if maybe she w_as_ what was wrong in her life. Somewhere along the way she had lost her smile. She’d had it back with her mother. Their life hadn’t been easy, but it had been warm and full of affection. She’d had it still with the Madisons, and later with Lian Harper, but it was already less frequent then. It had appeared sometimes at the Tower, with Eddie, with Jaime, with Bart… It wasn’t the same smile there, it had grown cautious. Suspicious. There was a hint at the corner of that smile that made the girls look at her a little harder.

Now? Now she almost never smiled. She could barely remember what it sounded like when she laughed. Life had formed her into something hard. All sharp edges and brittle temperament. It would be easy to hold Slade accountable, and he certainly deserved at least some of the blame, but was it honest? It wasn’t like no one else she knew had suffered like she had. It wasn’t like no one else had been set adrift in the big, violent world. Some had it far, far worse. Eddie. Terra. Joey. Grant. She got out alive. She got out with enough of herself that she still knew who she was.

Mostly.

She splashed water on her face, looking away from her reflection to take in the room. She had finally upgraded her crash pad. The holes in the walls had been plastered, the place had been cleaned, and there were a few items that looked suspiciously like furniture in the main room. For now, she had given up sleeping in safehouses. If her father wanted to come talk to her, then he could come to the door and ring the doorbell, just like the pizza delivery guy. She was tired of being afraid. It had been effecting her work, her abilities, and her life. If he wanted to watch, then he was welcome to do so.

Leaving the tiny bathroom, she moved to the main room and dropped down onto the futon with a satisfied huff. Honestly, it was nice not to sleep on the floor, even if _some people_ thought it made her soft. Yeah, well, joke was on _some people_. Story was she certainly hadn’t been conceived on a hard wooden floor, but on a big, comfortable bed, so _some people_ could go suck a taint. She closed her eye, letting the stillness of her flat wash over her, the sounds from outside slowly drifting in. She could hear the odd car go by, a pair of drunks complimenting each other as they stumbled home, the neighbour cooking in the kitchen, from the smell of it macaroni and cheese, the off-brand kind.

She’d made a place for herself here, in this corner of the city. The crime rate in her neighbourhood was at an all-time low, practically non-existent. No one had turned up dead, but that was more because no one who deserved killing had reared their ugly head. Everything had settled into a kind of equilibrium that worked for her. In her line of work, with her family and history, Rose was as close to content as possible.

She should have known better to let that thought drift through her mind.

She felt, more than heard, the figure pause at her window. She let a grumble of anger bubble up in her chest, but didn’t move, waiting to see what would happen next. Whoever it was, they were good. The windows were hold but she didn’t hear them slide open, no tinkling of glass, no click of a lock. Mentally she took stock of her options. There were three daggers inside the pillow she was using, and her katanas were right under the futon, she only had to roll off the side. There was a pistol just inside the unstitched cushion of the padding, and if she could get across to the bathroom the big gun was in the toilet tank. She was certainly adequately armed to take on anyone stupid enough to sneak into her apartment.

The wood made the faintest sigh. Didn’t matter how lightly someone stepped, the space under the window sagged from the amount of time she’d spent pacing back and forth in front of it. Like lightning she moved. Dagger out of the pillow and flying across the room as she rolled off the bed. One hand fished out the pistol, the other unsheathed a katana in a smooth motion before the intruder let out a strangled yelp. She was in a good mood, so she hadn’t aimed for anything vital. Peering over the edge of the couch, she sighed, flicking the safety back on the pistol. “What the hell are you doing breaking into my place?”

“For fuck’s sake, Wilson. You damn near killed me! Who throws a dagger blind like that?”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she counted to ten. Twice. “If I had wanted you dead you wouldn’t be talking right now. I didn’t throw it blind, I just didn’t look at you.” While the home invader cussed up a storm, Rose worked on putting all her gear back where it belonged. Her patience was better than it used to be, but it still wore thin pretty quickly. “What do you want, Zombie?”

Pulling her dagger out of the collar of his leather jacket, Jason offered it back to the white-haired assassin. “Ha ha. Your witty nicknames are ever so impressive. With wit like that, how can you not have more friends?” She waited, with every ounce of patience she had ever learned from her father. Of the two of them, she knew she could outlast the former Robin. Making a disgusted noise, he ruffled a hand through his two-toned hair. “No hospitality? You could at least offer me a drink after putting a hole in my new coat.”

“Get Daddybats to buy you a new one. He’s so steeped in guilt I’m sure he’d bend over backwards to provide one.” She snorted, and yet, she headed into the kitchen to grab a pair of glasses and a half empty bottle of whiskey. When she came back, he was sprawled across the futon, his boots placed neatly by the door as if he had been invited in. “Please, make yourself fucking comfortable.”

“Please, at least three of the safehouses I crashed in within the last week had long white hair on my pillow. Stay out of my shit, Wilson.”

She poured him a drink. “Not a fucking chance. Now… what’s the situation?”

The job was simple. A couple of drug dealers on the other end of town, usually a no-brainer, but they were using some pretty hefty firepower, and they had kids on staff. Homeless teens, looking to make a quick buck. Rose swore. “Yeah okay. I’m in.” She paused considered, and then took a swig from her glass instead. She knew why he had come to her and not one of Batman’s little parade of underagers. They were going in to make a clean sweep. She gave her apartment a sad look. Old Sullen Panties might give Jay a pass, there was a lot of guilt there, but if she was linked to a massacre, even if the dudes were bad, he wouldn’t even run her out of town, he’d take her in to Arkham. Fuck that. She wasn’t some crazy criminal. “When are we doing this?”

“Tomorrow night. Meet me at the north docks just after eight.” With a graceful motion he rolled off the futon, heading to the door for his boots. “Bring your arsenal, but try to aim it at the bad guys this time, okay?” Rose made a rude gesture at the cackling hood as he dropped back down out of her window. Bring her arsenal? Well, it had been awhile since she’d gotten to play with the big gun.


	2. Chapter 2

Rose would tell anyone who asked that she preferred to work alone. That it was better to rely on no one but yourself, and that her skillset was geared towards that. While there were elements of truth in the statement, it was not the complete truth. She had spent her formative years either on a team, or working with her father. These days? She seemed to be doing a lot of pairing up with people that she used to know. When the squeaky clean hero types needed a little rough edge, they seemed to show up at her door. This job though? Running with Jason was kind of like going to an amusement park. He’d skip the lectures about the sanctity of life and cheer her on as she brought her own specific vengeance to the game.

Of course, working with Jason could also be rough on the pocketbook. Normally she only worked for pay, though that seemed to be the case less and less frequently these days. Rose paused assembling her gear, letting that reality sink in a little. She was running awful low on funds, the last dozen or so jobs she took had been about doing what was right, rather than the dollar signs. They’d felt good, but that was hardly going to keep the lights on in her flat. She scowled down at her katanas. Was she getting soft? Was she, at her age, turning into more the hero type?

With a snort she shook her head, dismissing the thought. Heroes don’t leave a trail of bodies behind. So maybe she was more vigilante than mercenary lately, she was still one of the world’s deadliest assassins. She just hadn’t had a lot of assassination jobs lately. Sitting back on her haunches, she chewed her lip. No assassination, no mercenary jobs, and if she was honest, far fewer bodies than she used to. These days, unless they were real scum she usually let them off with all their own body parts still attached. Was it weakness though?

She laughed, standing in a smooth motion and crossing the faded laminate floor, moving into the bathroom to fetch the big gun. Maybe she was being a little bit of a soft touch with the petty criminals, but when it came to the real bad stuff, she was still an agent of death. Perhaps her body count was dropping, but the ones that did drop were so much worse than what she had been taking care of before. Traffickers. Mobsters. Some people were so evil that she couldn’t resist paying them a visit, even if she had to bankroll it herself. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a child anymore, but anyone who did take advantage of kids made it onto her hit list. She was still going to harass Jason about money though. She had a reputation to maintain.

Twenty minutes later she pulled her bike up beside Jason’s at the docks. Sliding off her helmet, she stepped to his left, trying to follow his line of sight. “All right Zombie, what’s the situation?” She could practically hear his eyes rolling, and that made the corner of her lips turn up in a sardonic little grin. Of all the batspawn, he was definitely the easiest to needle. He also took it better than most of the rest, which was a relief. _Some people_ were too damn sensitive.

“They’ve got a dozen guys with automatics, nothing either of us couldn’t handle, but the kids are working the floor. One of us has to get the kids out, the other gets to clean up the garbage.” Her lips spread in to a wide grin. “Well since you have more experience with children, perhaps its best if you run the kindergarten buddy system, while I have a chat with the grown ups. It’s the least you can do, since you can’t even afford my starting rate.”

A short bark of laughter escaped Jason, and he leaned over to elbow her in the ribs. “I thought you’d take care of Toddler Time, since you’ve got all those _feminine_ traits. Besides, half the kids down there are taller than you, so you won’t be half so intimidating.” Oooh, a short joke. She put a mental marker in his column. Someone was going to pay for that later.

“We both know you look better in a dress. How about you run Mommy and Me and I’ll take Dad out for a round or three of golf.” There was a pause, and then another ripple of laughter, and she even let herself join in. “Nah, you’re right. It’s your op, you can have the fun job. Plus, of the two of us only one can take the kiddies out of harm’s way and still make it back in time to save your ass when you inevitably fuck this six ways to Sunday and nearly get yourself killed. Again.”

Jason pulled on his mask and turned to Rose. Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could imagine the furrowed eyebrows as he tried to come up with a retort that was halfway clever enough to be funny. “There’s an entrance on the north side of the building, it comes in real close to the sorting floor. Most of the kids will be there.” Another pause. “Dick said when he came through here to try to solve this, they started killing the kids until he gave up. It’s why he gave me the job, it’s why I picked you. This has got to end. No matter what they do. Can I count on you, or is that going to be a problem?”

Wincing, Rose took a step back, giving Jason the courtesy of actually considering things. She took the first minute to be pissed at Dick for being such a pussy. It was one thing to not be able to do a job, but to saddle someone else with it? He better understand that everyone who died tonight was on him. He had picked Jason for a reason. Probably because most of those idiots thought Jason didn’t care. Idiots. That was what most people thought about vigilantes that killed though, that they had no damn emotion. Rose shook her head, tying on her mask. “These fuckers go down. If they start killing the kids I’ll bring the fucking apocalypse down on their little operation. That’s a promise.”

Nodding his head, her old pal pulled his guns from their holsters. “Perfect. Don’t get killed in there. I have no interest in late night meetings with your old man.”

“Ditto, Zombie.”


	3. Chapter 3

There were two men stationed at the North entrance, and they weren’t slackers. Guns in hands, gazes scanning the area, they were on alert. It always sucked when the bad guys hired competent help, but the part of Rose that was itching for a fight didn’t mind. Those automatic rifles looked pretty nasty though. Moving as quietly as she could, she kept her gaze focused on the men, studying their movements, getting a feel for their routine. Even when trying to be random, humans tended to settle into specific patterns. It was one of those unfortunate side effects of the monkey brain that made Rose’s job so much easier. Usually.

Five minutes passed, and then the sounds of gunshots burst from the front of the building. Crouching low she watched as the men snapped to attention, one moving to look around the building. That was her opening, and practically crawling through the scraggly bushes and strewn detritus she sidled up to the right side of the man at the door, and then threw herself at his back. One arm snaking around his neck to keep him from calling out, she dropped a dagger into her hand from its wrist sheath and drove it right into his kidney. With his larynx crushed he couldn’t make more than a burbling gasp and she eased him to the ground. The second man turned to return and report, only to find two blades, one after the other, lodging into his throat. The first pierced the trachea, the second his jugular, and almost as silently as his companion he slumped to the ground, bleeding out in the still night.

The volume around front kept increasing, meaning that whatever Jason was up to, he was enjoying himself. Patting down the man at her feet and finding no keycard, she sighed and moved to the next. One, two, blades got wiped off on his jacket and slipped back into their sheathes before she dug through all his pockets, finally coming out with the pass that would hopefully grant her entrance. Another minute and she was inside, the sounds of combat blissfully muted by the heavy steel doors. She should have made Jason flip for the messy front entrance job, but she’d been trying to be nice.

Stepping lightly she moved through the dark hallway, sticking to the shadows as the bare bulbs swung high above, only about half of them lighting the pathway. Pausing at an intersection, she tilted her head and closed her eye, listening to the sounds of the building. Somewhere overhead there were several pairs of heavy boots running towards the entrance, the sound of gunfire still pretty heavy in that direction. Water rushing through pipes, a car alarm somewhere, and then there… nearby, to the right, the sound of a child whimpering.

Squaring her shoulders, Rose turned and headed down that hallway. Honestly the door that held the kids might as well have had a big sign that said PRISONERS THROUGH HERE. One hand on a hip, she narrowed her eye at the chains and padlocks, then examined the rest of the door. Her mouth turned up in a smirk. Sometimes bad guys were both dumb and smart at the same time. Prepared for someone to get one of their pass cards, not prepared for someone who knew how doors worked. With several well-placed strikes of a razor sharp katana she had removed the vertical screws from the hinges, and kicked one side of the door open. A small chorus of shrieks rose out of the room, and she pulled off her mask before sticking her head through the opening. Best to scare the kittles as little as possible.

“Hey guys, I don’t know about you but I find the cafeteria here serves food worse than gas station burritos, so I thought maybe I’d go on an ice cream run. Anyone want to come with me?” Stunned silence and confused faces greeted her announcement, until a scrawny young lad, maybe thirteen or fourteen and covered in bruises, got to his feet. He had an older teenage girl’s hand in his, though her eyes were far away, and Rose winced. She recognized the look of someone who had checked out, and she made a mental note to follow up with that one.

Voice quivering, trying to sound older than he was, the boy kept himself between her and the girl, who may have been his sister based on their matching dirty blonde hair and lean builds. “If you’re here to trick us or hurt us, y-you’ll regret it, lady.”

Poor little thing, too bad she didn’t have time to deal with fragile child egos. If she wasn’t quick, she’d miss the party out front. Instead she stepped into the room, her katana still in her hand and offered the boy the pass card she carried. She could always liberate another one when she found the nearest food patrol. “The way is clear, tough guy. You seem to know what’s what, so you lead your friends out of here and I’ll bring up the rear, make sure no one follows you out. After that, ball is in your court.” Thinking about it, she slid the burner phone from her boot and handed that over too. “Call the cops, call your parents, hell call an Uber, fuck knows that I don’t give a shit, just get yourselves the fuck out of here.”

Another second’s hesitation, and then he was helping kids up off the floor, ushering them into a silent line. It was sobering, seeing how quiet and obedient the kids were, but not enough to distract her from the real mission. As far as she was concerned the kids were taken care of. Sometimes you had to trust someone to save themselves, and she had an inkling that the boy would do right by the group. Sheathing her katana and tying her mask back into place, Rose set back out into the hallway, heading the opposite direction from the one she had come. Hopefully Jason was ready for some company, because she was coming in.


End file.
